“This book says everyone has a doppelganger, a mirror image, and if you meet yours face to face you’ll die.” Janice, my flatmate, closed the book finished her tea and toast and slammed out the door for her A & E shift at St. Margaret’s hospital just down the road. She loved any kind of fantasy literature, always immersed in some supernatural genre book. Give me a good Nordic Noir mystery anytime.
After taking a shower I went to brush my teeth. If you meet your doppelganger face to face you’ll die, my reflection in the bathroom mirror laughed as I recited the words. But they’d begun to worm their subliminal way into my subconscious waiting to claw their way to the surface and pounce.
One day, a couple of weeks later, I headed for the front door ready to set off downtown to where I worked at a music store. Doppelganger, I froze as my mind hissed the insidious word. What if I saw me on the train? Or stood behind me on the line at Gloria Jean’s? What if I came into the store to buy a DVD and had to serve myself? The words shot through my mind. I let go of the door handle as though electrocuted and phoned in sick.
“Do you fancy a night out at that new wine bar down the street?” Janice bounced through the front door one afternoon, chirpy as a blue bird, her shift trauma free for once.
“Not tonight, Janice, I’m still not feeling so good.” The image of my other self perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, possibly raising a toast, was too hard to stomach.
‘You haven’t been outside for ages, Natalie, not even for work…you’ll end up getting fired. What’s going on with you?” Janice pressed.
“I’ll meet my doppelganger and die if I go outside,” I burst into tears, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.
“You know there’s no such thing. You need to get help, Natalie. I’ve a therapist friend who works at the hospital. I’ll fix you up an appointment.” She wrapped me in a comfort hug.
“You’re booked in for ten o’clock this morning.” Two days later Janice grabbed my arm and pulled me through the front door; I didn’t stand a chance. “You won’t meet yourself between here and St. Margaret’s.” She grinned and we set off down the street.
“Excuse me,” a hand tapped my shoulder as we waited to cross the busy main road. I turned around and my shriek froze the blood of everyone close by before I stepped backwards off the footpath into the path of a semi-trailer.
“I didn’t mean to frighten her,” tears ran down the anguished face of one of the two men who’d been standing behind me, holding a large six-feet square mirror they were carrying across to the framing workshop across the road. “I just wanted to ask her to step to one side.”
After taking a shower I went to brush my teeth. If you meet your doppelganger face to face you’ll die, my reflection in the bathroom mirror laughed as I recited the words. But they’d begun to worm their subliminal way into my subconscious waiting to claw their way to the surface and pounce.
One day, a couple of weeks later, I headed for the front door ready to set off downtown to where I worked at a music store. Doppelganger, I froze as my mind hissed the insidious word. What if I saw me on the train? Or stood behind me on the line at Gloria Jean’s? What if I came into the store to buy a DVD and had to serve myself? The words shot through my mind. I let go of the door handle as though electrocuted and phoned in sick.
“Do you fancy a night out at that new wine bar down the street?” Janice bounced through the front door one afternoon, chirpy as a blue bird, her shift trauma free for once.
“Not tonight, Janice, I’m still not feeling so good.” The image of my other self perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, possibly raising a toast, was too hard to stomach.
‘You haven’t been outside for ages, Natalie, not even for work…you’ll end up getting fired. What’s going on with you?” Janice pressed.
“I’ll meet my doppelganger and die if I go outside,” I burst into tears, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.
“You know there’s no such thing. You need to get help, Natalie. I’ve a therapist friend who works at the hospital. I’ll fix you up an appointment.” She wrapped me in a comfort hug.
“You’re booked in for ten o’clock this morning.” Two days later Janice grabbed my arm and pulled me through the front door; I didn’t stand a chance. “You won’t meet yourself between here and St. Margaret’s.” She grinned and we set off down the street.
“Excuse me,” a hand tapped my shoulder as we waited to cross the busy main road. I turned around and my shriek froze the blood of everyone close by before I stepped backwards off the footpath into the path of a semi-trailer.
“I didn’t mean to frighten her,” tears ran down the anguished face of one of the two men who’d been standing behind me, holding a large six-feet square mirror they were carrying across to the framing workshop across the road. “I just wanted to ask her to step to one side.”
